


Place The Blame On Fayecastle

by Cas_tellations



Series: The Stars Above Us, Declaring Our Fate. [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, alcoholic beverages are consumed, gender queer(?) (depending on how you look at it), im so happy that i can finally post it, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of rape (very vague but still), metal illnesses like anxiety & depression, oh god this is my pride and joy, some selfharm things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_tellations/pseuds/Cas_tellations
Summary: Dan and Phil had broken up over 6 years ago. There hadn't been anything since then. No phone call, no text, just nothing. Until now, apparently. Because now Dan was in the bookshop with fairly lights adorning the walls and Phil was standing in front of him and everything had come crashing down once again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> oh my gOD IM FINALLY POSTING THIS. this is my actual pride and joy i worked so hard on it and am quite happy with how it turned out (can you believe that when i started writing this i thought it would be fluffy) This IS a pt.2 to an existing fic that i already have! however, it does make sense if you read it on it's own so you don't have to read the first part, but if you do; it's called "These Four Words" so you can go check it out. 
> 
> Thankyou do much to Anyka for beta'ing this mess of a fic, I really appreciate it <3

 

 

 

 

It’s almost painful, pretending to be happy. 

 

You paint a smile onto your face in bright pastel hues, letting the yellows and purples swirl into each other and create the smile for you. The words get stuck in your throat, like the edges of the letters are caught on something and refuse to move past your lips. Every move is shadowed with doubt, but you live with it. It becomes who you are, a plastic face to shield everyone from the monster underneath. 

 

Dan shrugs off the black jumper and impossibly dark skinny jeans in TopMan’s changing room, staring at his gaunt reflection in the mirror for a split second before pulling on a pale pink t-shirt and white jeans. The fabric is soft, and it feels like he’s going home. He almost wishes that he has a flower crown as well, thinking that it’d set the outfit off nicely. His bare feet are cold against the tiled floor, but he ignores it. He’s almost in a trance, at this point, staring at his reflection as if it’s another person entirely. 

 

In a way, it is another person. The pastel genderqueer person in the mirror is someone else: someone Dan left behind a long time ago. 

 

The dulled colours don’t seem to fit how skinny he’s become. They do nothing to hide the bags under his eyes or the thin white lines speckled across his forearms. 

 

His hair is straight, but he kind-of wants it to go natural again. 

 

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, turning so that he wasn’t facing the mirror, and stripping down, pulling on the darker coloured clothes again. It felt almost like he was putting himself in a cage, wearing the masculine white collared shirt, dark jeans and black jumper. 

 

He leaves the store, not buying anything. 

 

Maybe it was because he simply wasn't that person anymore. 

 

Or maybe it was because he was scared of the person that he really was.

 

-

 

The rain is what finally makes Dan vear across the pavement and push his way into the bookshop. The ancient looking sign in the door showing off it’s name:  _ ‘Faycastle’.  _

 

Everything is made out of wood, a darker forest-like aesthetic revealed in the ways that ferns lined the windowsills. The bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, fairy lights dancing down the edges, illuminating the book’s titles softly. The 1975 playing in the background, barely audible over the roar of the rain smashing against the thin window panes from outside.

 

Dan makes his way to the back of the store, where he’d hopefully be out of eyesight from everybody else. The bookshelves are close together, filling the shop up with as many books as it could possibly hold. He flits in between them like a shadow, letting his fingertips trail over their spines, feeling the millions of stories that they held. 

 

There are more plants at the back of the shop, but their leaves are all withered and dead, the sun's rays not being able to reach them. 

 

Dan plucks a book of the shelf. It’s old, the cover barely hanging onto it’s spine. It feels rough under his touch, the pages edges are all frayed, some pages stained from moisture. 

 

All of the books look to be in similar shape, give or take some years. 

 

The one that Dan’s holding is poetry;  _ ‘Atalanta in Calydon’. _

 

He lifts it up to his face, breathing in deeply.

 

“It’s the chemical breakdown between-” A voice starts, but it abruptly cut off as Dan looks up, closing the book and pushing it back onto the bookshelf in one movement. 

 

_ Phil.  _

 

Dan physically takes a step back. 

 

_ Phil.  _

 

His mind is playing over every single moment that he and Phil had spent together. Every sleepy cuddle. Every drunken kiss. Every word. Every sound. He can almost feel Phil’s body against him, a cloudy memory between them in the bookshop. 

 

“Dan?”, He hears Phil’s voice ask. 

 

He nods, looking up to meet his eyes. 

 

He wishes that he hadn’t. They captivate him. They’re blue and yellow and green and they light up everything around him. 

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last things that he had ever said to Phil. He couldn't stop thinking about the stuttered; “I just don’t love you”, or the way that he had seen the lights in Phil’s eyes die. Or even the way that Phil had practically screamed at him;  _ “Why?”  _ He remembered the way that Phil had gasped out a strangled; “One for the road, then?” He remembers the kiss, wet and desperate. 

 

“Dan?” He can hear Phil’s voice touching upon his name again. 

 

“Phil.” Dan barely manages to murmur. 

 

A strange look passes over Phil’s face. Dan can’t catch it in time to tell what emotion it is. Maybe it’s just Phil remembering what he and Dan used to have. Maybe it was just Phil remembering the countless  _ ‘I love you’s,  _ whispered through nights long ago. 

 

“You’re…. You’re not wearing pastel clothes?” 

 

Dan almost laughs. He hasn’t worn anything even remotely pastel for years, save the minutes spent in the changing room a few hours ago. Is that really what surprises Phil the most? The fact that he’s wearing different colour  _ clothing?  _

 

“Um, yeah… Fuck, what’d you expect?” Dan mutters. He wants to get out of the bookshop, but he can’t just walk away. 

 

Phil looks lost for once. He stumbles over a sentence, but can’t articulate it properly. Dan stares at him blankly. He knows that the stars that Phil used to see in his eyes are gone, he knows that this sullen, sad person is the exact opposite of everything that Phil used to be so comfortable around. He knows that he’s different and barely recognizable. But he doesn’t care. 

 

“I um. I have to go…” Dan ends up murmuring, sidestepping past the black-haired boy and slipping easily out of the shop. 

 

He pretends that he can’t hear Phil calling after him. 

 

-

 

His mind is a mess. It yells at him day and night, scrambling his thoughts and pushing people away from him. Everyday is broken up into endless routine; wake up, shower, get dressed, go to work, eat, go back to his house, sleep. He wears dark masculine clothing that makes him want to rip his face off because it’s the opposite of who he is. 

 

He goes through case after case at the law agency. Rape. Abuse. Divorce. He drinks coffee after coffee. Black tie and white button up, followed by a dark suit jacket and trousers to match. Showers so hot that they burn his skin, but he relishes it. Late nights and baggy eyes. 

 

Painting a smile on your face, and going around like you’re not bothered. 

 

He wants to go back to the time when he’d wear pink jumpers and flower crowns without a care. He wants to go back to the time when he could sleep the night through and wake up feeling alive. He wants to go back to the time when he’d wake up pressed against Phil’s chest. 

 

He wants to be happy. 

 

-

 

The next time he sees Phil, it’s late at night and Dan’s half asleep, standing in front of the lawyer’s office and trying to remember how to call a taxi. His hands are fumbling with his iPhone and tears are welling in his eyes because he couldn’t fucking do  _ anything  _ these days. Stress shakes his fingertips and he nearly drops his phone in a left-over puddle from last night’s rainstorm. 

 

His eyes are blurry and he’s not completely sure if it’s from the tears or just his body shutting down after running of caffeine for days. 

 

He curses, running a trembling hand through his hair, pushing it up into a quiff. 

 

And then he’s there. Phil. Dan thinks that he might be hallucinating until Phil’s hand comes up and rests on the small of Dan’s back, offering him support. 

 

“Let me help you, okay?” His tone is so soft. Too soft. 

 

He pries Dan’s iPhone out of his hand, “You want a cab, right?” 

 

Dan nods, barely. 

 

Phil rubs his hand into Dan’s back a bit as he steadily dials the number, talking to the person on the other end for a second before hanging up. He fiddles with the phone for another moment and then hands it back to Dan, who shoves it into his pocket so that he doesn’t end up almost dropping it again. 

 

“They’re coming.” He informs the shaking boy. His hand isn’t moving off of Dan’s back, but Dan doesn’t really mind it. 

 

The cab gets there quickly enough, and Phil ushers Dan inside. Neither of them say goodbye to the other but actions speak louder than words as Phil runs a hand through Dan’s hair. 

 

-

 

Dan feels like shit. He’s coughing and his throat is all sore and his head hurts and his mouth tastes bad. He doesn’t remember how he managed to get back to his apartment the previous night. He stays in bed. Not that he could get up even if he wanted to. He sleeps all day, waking up at 10pm and not knowing what to do with his life. 

 

He was a lawyer. And a damn good one at that. But he wasn’t happy. He made enough to live in London and to pay for everything without a worry, but a house isn’t home and all he wants to do is go home. 

 

He ends up calling his Mum. 

 

They talk until there’s nothing to talk about and then they just ramble to each other. Dan promises that he’s come visit her and Dad soon. He tells her that he loves her and she says it back. She tells him to pick up therapy again because it might help. He tells her that he’ll try but he’s not promising anything. 

 

When they finally hang up, the stars are shining and the moon lights up the street, early dawn brushing across the sky. He sends his boss a text saying that he won’t be in today because of ‘personal issues’. His boss doesn’t seem to mind. He never does. 

 

He cleans his room and has a shower that’s not burning hot. He googles a recipe and makes chocolate chip cookies. He eats half of the cookies whilst watching American Horror Story and then orders pizza. Before he goes to bed, he calls his old therapist and books an appointment before he can back out of it. 

 

-

 

By the time he goes back to work, nothing’s magically repaired. The days off had aided him slightly, but being behind on his work make it harder. 

 

His boss sees how he’s acting, and asks if he wants a few more days to himself. Dan freezes. He doesn’t know if he should, but a gentle  _ ‘you can work from home for a bit, get those cases worked out in a calmer place, alright kid?’ _ sends him home to his couch and T.V, typing away at his laptop between sips of tea. 

 

-

 

He’s scrolling through the contact list on his phone, trying to find the number for a client when he sees it. The ‘ _ Phil Lester _ ’ contact. He knows for a fact that he never put Phil’s number into his phone. He’d deleted it after they had broken up, nearly six years and two iPhones ago. 

 

He doesn’t text him with a simple ‘ _ why the hell’s ur number in my iPhone?’ _

 

No. He’s not like that. They were never like that. 

 

He doesn’t even know if it’s really Phil. It could be someone else for all he knew. 

 

-

  
  


_ D.H; “What were you talking about chemical breakdowns?”  _

 

_ P.L; “What?”  _

 

_ D.H; “When I was in ur bookstore . u started talking about chemival breakdowns”  _

 

_ DH; “Chemical**” _

 

_ P.L; “Oh yea u were sniffing that book.” _

 

_ P.L; “Old books tend to smell good due to the chemical breakdown that occurs as they age.” _

 

_ D.H; “So you go up to random ppl and start talking about breakdowns in chemicals?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Only cute random ppl.” _

 

-

 

The fifty-seven year old white man was sentenced to eight years of imprisonment for raping a fourteen year old girl on her way home from school. Dan thinks that it should have been lifetime imprisonment. The young girl, now sixteen, is crying in court. Dan tries to ignore her pitiful sniffles and yells about fairness and justice. 

 

The family thanks Dan afterwards in his office. He shakes the parents hands and offers them sad smiles then hugs the daughter, holding her for a long while, swaying back and forth. 

 

It wasn’t fair. ( _ life’s not fair. _ )

 

-

 

Two weeks pass, a steady stream of therapist appointments, both his own and sitting in with clients. He calls his parents alot, even goes down to Reading to visit them for a few days. His boss asks him to start working from the office again and he does so readily, throwing himself into work but still trying to keep his mental health somewhat stable. It doesn’t help, being surrounded by other people’s problems all the time. 

 

-

 

_ D.H; “hey.” _

 

_ P.L; “It’s 2am what are you doing awake?” _

 

_ D.H; “Just thinking.” _

 

_ P.L; “Good thoughts?”  _

 

_ D.H; “No not really.” _

 

_ P.L; “Want to talk about it?” _

 

_ D.H; “I’d rather not.” _

 

_ P.L; “So I got a new cactus today.” _

 

_ D.H; “You mean yesterday, its 2am.” _

 

_ P.L; “Yea. Yesterday. New cactus.” _

 

_ D.H; “...and?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Sorry I thought I heard a dog outside, had to go check.” _

 

_ D.H; “Why would a dog be outside your flat at 2am?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Idk if there was a dog I would ask them but there isnt so I can’t.” _

 

_ D.H; “What happened to the cactus then?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Oh yeah, so I put it in the shop bc I thought it’d look nice there but an old lady fell on it (??not sure how it happened??)” _

 

_ D.H; “That’s your news? An old lady falling on a cactus.”  _

 

_ P.L; “Ikr my life is so very exciting.”  _

 

_ D.H; “Sounds like it.”  _

 

_ D.H; “Was she okay? If u need a lawyer to fite off old ladies im here.” _

 

_ D.H; “I’m just gonna go and assume that she was fine.” _

 

_ D.H; “Phil?”  _

 

_ D.H; “If u fell asleep then ur a nerd.”  _

 

-

 

He can’t stop remembering Phil’s arms around him, years ago. Telling him that everything would be okay.  _ (It wasn’t okay.) _

 

-

 

They’re at a coffee shop together after many days of texting. The conversation is flowing easily, as it always had. There wasn’t any small talk, just diving straight into meaningful conversation. There hadn’t been any mention of their breaking up from years ago. They danced around the topic, not touching on it. Neither of them really minded. They sipped their drinks -Dan’s a small hot chocolate and Phil’s a huge caramel macchiato- and talked about everything. (Almost everything. They didn’t talk about themselves. They didn't talk about how they felt for each other.)

 

-

 

_ P.L; “Hi.” _

 

_ D.H; “Hey.”  _

 

_ P.L; “You busy?”  _

 

_ D.H; “No not really, why?”  _

 

_ P.L; “The stars are out and the sky is clear.”  _

 

_ P.L; “There’s a great view of them from the roof of Fayecastel.” _

 

_ P.L; “u don’t have to come but it’d be nice.”  _

 

_ D.H; “give me 15mins i’ll be there.”  _

 

-

 

Phil’s ushering him up the thin steps to the roof, having already slipped between the bookshelves and tightly-packed plants in the store. The stairs creak underfoot and Dan can hear Phil ahead of him in the darkness, murmuring something about almost being there. 

 

He pushes open the door, faint light streaming in from the light reflecting away from the moon. 

 

Dejavu settles over them like a thin mist. They couldn’t count the number of times that they’d done this before. 

 

But now it’s different because they’re older and Dan doesn’t wear soft clothes and his dimples don’t show anymore and Phil’s hair is shorter and he hasn’t smoked in a year. 

 

They’re the same people but nearly everything else is different. 

 

Dan drops to his knees then rolls onto his back, his hands resting on his stomach as he stares skywards. Phil copies his movements, inches between them that may as well be miles. 

 

“It’s like nothing has changed at all,” Phil whispers through the darkness.

 

(It had changed.) 

 

“ _ They  _ haven’t changed.” Dan replies, motioning a hand to the sky. 

 

(everything changed.) 

 

“We changed, though.” Phil’s words are barely audible, but Dan’s breath catches in his throat and Phil knows that he had heard him. 

 

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, tilting his head to look at Phil. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Phil’s eyes are trained on his, blue meeting brown.

 

“For what?” Dan knows what Phil’s trying to apologize for. The ability to read Phil’s facial expressions and thoughts flashing through his eyes had never left.

 

“For whatever I did to make you stop loving me?” It came out as a question. 

 

Dan laughed drying, “You didn’t do anything.” 

 

“I did something.” Phil murmured, turning his face back to the stars. 

 

“No. You didn’t. It was my fault,” Dan almost wants to yell, reaching out a hand and grabbing Phil’s chin, forcing him to look at the younger boy, “It was  _ my  _ fault, Phil. You didn’t do anything.”

 

(It was Dan’s fault.)

 

“Then why did you stop loving me?” Phil’s voice sounds broken and dejected. 

 

(Dan didn’t stop loving him.)

 

They’re laying side to side, facing each other under the stars onto of a lonely bookshop, millions upon millions of stories lay underneath them, but the only story that they were living was their own. It used to be one of happiness and love, soft colours and smoke, honey-tasting lips and gentle arms, but then it had changed into something harder, slipping under an icy surface. Words in Dan’s head has screamed at him just as his father used to. His lips were on someone else's. They were drunk and stupid and Dan was scared. He was scared of Phil and being with him. He was scared of his pastel pink clothes and his curly hair. He was scared of who he was, without even knowing who he was. Stuck in a whirlpool and then the  _ ‘I don’t love you.’  _

 

Dan’s breathing hard. All of this was his fault. He shuffles closer to Phil, pressing their shoulders and sides together. He wants to make it right but doesn’t know how because this is Phil and Phil used to be everything he had. 

 

But now he’s nothing.

 

(He’s not really  _ nothing,  _ but Dan doesn’t know what to think.)

 

It hurts being around Phil like this, pressed up against one another, staring at the stars. If Phil’s hair had been longer and Dan had been wearing pastel clothes, then they might have passed for much younger, happier versions of themselves. 

 

“Why’d you leave?” Phil’s question is watered down, like he was trying to stop crying. 

 

(Because Dan was scared.)

 

_ I was scared.  _

 

“I was scared.” It comes out barely a whisper, could have been easily mistaken for a sigh. 

 

“That’s no excuse.” Phil says, his hard eyes reflecting starlight but not shining any of their own. 

 

Dan goes silent for a long while, Phil’s words burning into his head. It wasn’t an excuse. It was the truth but Dan knows it’s not good enough. He’s not good enough. Why is he even here? Does he really think that he has any chance with Phil? After all that had happened between them? He stares at the stars, like they can give him an answer. 

 

“Is there any chance?” Dan mumbles, not taking his eyes off the stars.

 

“With what?” Phil shoots back. 

 

“With us.” Dan chokes, turning his head to watch Phil’s reaction. 

 

Phil flinches, rolling over onto his side to properly face Dan. 

 

“With us.” He repeats back, as if he couldn’t believe that Dan had just said that.

 

Dan manages a small nod, his gaze unwavering from Phil’s.

 

He watches Phil’s eyes because they always say more then his lips do.

 

(yes, yes a million times yes.)

 

-

 

_ P.L; “How are you?” _

 

_ D.H; “Good. Just got back from therapy.”  _

 

_ D.H; “You?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Sleepy.”  _

 

_ D.H; “Then go to sleep u nerd.”  _

 

_ P.L; “But I haven’t talked to you all day.”  _

 

_ D.H; “Fair enough.”  _

 

_ P.L; “How was therapy anyway?”  _

 

_ D.H; “It was good, we worked some things out.”  _

 

_ P.L; “You’re happier now, aren’t you?”  _

 

_ D.H; “Kind-of, yeah.” _

 

_ D.H; “You make me happy, too.”  _

 

_ P.L; “You make me happy as well.”  _

 

_ D.H; “I’m glad.”  _

 

-

 

Abuse. Towards a mother and her two-year-old daughter, from the ex-husband. Five years of imprisonment. They thank him. Why do they always thank him? He doesn’t think that he deserves it. 

 

-

 

He goes back home for a few days to see his parents, then he locks himself away at the office and tries not to let the stress get to him as he goes through case after case. He drinks too much coffee, and thinks too much but he can’t stop himself from doing that.

 

-

 

Dan takes Phil out on a date. A proper one, in a restaurant and everything. He trades his black jacket in for a pink button-up, but changes his mind minutes before leaving his flat, ending up with dark coloured clothes and a shy smile plastered across his face. 

 

Phil complements Dan on how he looks and Dan does the same right back. They talk as they eat, quietly, as if they didn’t want the rest of the restaurant listening in. Dan tells him about how much he hated law school and in turn Phil explains to him why he’s running a bookshop of all things. 

 

(There was a chance. This was their chance.)

 

Phil drops Dan off at home afterwards, stopping at Dan’s doorstep and turning to face him. Dan’s cheeks are tinted pink and the soft hits of dimples poke through. His hair is slightly curly, his eyes staring fixedly at the floor. 

 

Phil hooks two fingers under Dan’s chin, tilting his head up in order to meet his eyes evenly. 

 

Neither of them speak but that’s okay because they’d never really needed to talk in order to understand the other.

 

Phil is the one that leans forwards, towards the slightly shorter boy. 

 

Their breaths are mixing together and Dan’s lips are parting of their own accord. Phil’s hands slip forwards to rest on Dan’s hips, and Dan’s hands are reaching up to grip Phil’s face between them, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes, making him level with Phil. 

 

Their noses bump together and Phil lets out a breathy giggle, his hands expertly pulling Dan closer. He tilts his head, his stomach flipping over a million times. 

 

Then Phil’s lips are on his and all Dan can think about is  _ Phil.  _

 

(It used to be like this all the time, Dan’s mind being wiped whenever he was graced with Phil’s touch.)

 

He’s transported back to a time when he would wear pastel clothes and smile all the time. 

 

He’s transported back to who he used to be. (To whom he wished he still was)

 

Phil’s hands are tugging lightly on his hair and his teeth are biting at Dan’s bottom lip, pulling it away and then letting it ping back into place. 

 

He tastes the same, like starlight dancing on the waves of an ocean. 

 

The heat makes way for gentle pecks, against his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, just above his eye, near the shell of his ear.

 

Dan lets his hands fall down to his waist and leans forewards until his whole body is resting against Phil, his head pressed against Phil’s shoulder. 

 

Phil’s holding him up. 

 

Strong. 

 

Soft. 

 

Gentle.

 

Neither of them ever want to move.

 

(The stars are watching them from above, smiling within themselves at the re-joining constellation below them)

 

-

 

_ P.L; “My mom’s asking me if I have a boyfriend.” _

 

_ P.L; “What should I say?” _

 

_ D.H; “idk.” _

 

_ P.L; “Have you thought about possibly dating me again?”  _

 

_ D.H; “Yeah.” _

 

_ P.L; “And…?” _

 

_ D.H; “I don’t want us to end like we did last time.”  _

 

_ D.H; “I don’t ever want that to happen to me again.”  _

 

_ P.L; “Are you willing to give it a shot?”  _

 

_ P.L; “Dan? It’s been 10 minutes u ok?”  _

 

_ D.H; “Tell her that yes, you’ve got a boyfriend.”  _

 

-

 

Dan goes to Urban Outfitters the day before Phil gets back from visiting his parents. His hair is curly and the acrylic paints that make up his face are designing themselves into a soft smile, without any prompting. It’s not a painful smile. It’s not a smile to try and hide anything. 

 

He gets some pastel clothes, loving the way that it feels soft against his skin. 

 

He digs up an old flower crown when he gets home and places it on the top of his head, letting the dulling colours mix with the vivid brown of his wavy hair. 

 

He looks at himself in the mirror, running his hands down his arms where the short-sleeved lavender shirt didn’t reach. The pale scars that littered his forearms didn’t itch. They didn’t feel ugly anymore. 

 

He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at his reflection. 

 

The person that looks back at him is full of hope. 

 

That person is wearing light-coloured clothes and a pale blush is covering their cheeks and the hint of a smile is poking through. 

 

It’s not painful, being happy. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading this!! Comments and kudos mean a lot to me, so if you could take a few seconds out of your day to leave a comment/click the kudos button, it would make me v v happy.


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